Am I Going Home?
by Another Icarus
Summary: The explosion rocked the ground under his feet. Dick still needed to find Jason.


"Dammit! Dammit!" Dick darted down the alleyway, looking wildly around for Jason. What little he'd caught over the intercom hadn't sounded good, and the little knot was back in his gut, forming tight little twists and making him feel ill. No, Jason couldn't be in danger again. No, he just couldn't be. This all seemed too much like what had happened last time, when-

When Jason had died.

"Jason, come in! Where the fuck are you man?" He pressed the little comm button near his ear, and cringed when only radio static returned his question. "Jason!"

The ground beneath him rocked violently, an explosion filling the air. "Fuck!" He looked up at the sky, and was, at least, grateful for the smoke pillar billowing up into the cloudy sky that had been threatening rain all day. He changed directions at the first opportunity, skidding against the ground, and rushed for the business distract, where the explosion had sounded. It was easy enough to tell where it came from, the glow becoming brighter and bright against the night sky. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the destination, an old abandoned warehouse - Gotham was full of them - that was currently trying to burn itself to the ground. "Jason, you in there?" He coughed - the smoke was thick in the air, and without hesitation, he shook his head and ran in.

The heat was worse from the inside, the sound of crackling wood and the sound of what glass that hadn't broke from the explosion shattering from the sheer heat filling the air. And not too far in was - was Jason. He could recognize that damn leather jacket anywhere. The other man was currently crumpled on the ground, curled into a ball. He wasn't moving. Suddenly, the pit in Dick's stomach felt more like the urge to vomit. No. He couldn't lose Jason now. Not a second time. Not with their latest argument still scalding hot in his ears, their fight still resulting in fresh bruises and scrapes under his suit. "Jason! Fuck, c'mon buddy, you gotta move. Come on." He hurried over, and rolled Jason on his back. The other man didn't seem conscious, not even with a few weak slaps to the face. "Fuck, I can't carry your stupid dead weight. C'mon, wake up!"

Just like always, Jason seemed intent on scorning him, not waking or moving at all. Gritting his teeth, Dick curled his hands around Jason's upper arms, and -pulled-. Jason's dead weight shifted a bit, scratching against the ground. The ceiling above groaned, fighting the weakening structure that the fire was causing. They could both be crushed beneath debris, and noone would know until the firehouse was clearing away the ruble to erect a just as useless warehouse that would later more than likely house a drug ring or some equally terrible-for-society thing.

Still, somehow, Dick got Jason out from under the building, out into the open lot that once served as a parking area. Immediate danger averted, Dick gave one final tug to Jason's body and then fell on his ass, panting. Somehow, dragging a guy taller and heavier than himself was a hell of a lot harder than throwing the same guy in a fight. "Jason, for fuck's sake, will you-" His words caught in his throat, and he looked down at his little brother's prone face. Later, he would swear it was just the smoke filling his lungs that made it so damn hard to talk.

And then it happened. The rain clouds over head didn't just let loose the rain it had been threatening all day, it broke a dam, rain coming out of seeming thin air and assaulting the ground with thick, heavy drops. The city, silly as it might sound, heaved a collective sigh at this, and the fire - probably chemical, not so easily given up to a bucket of cold rain - didn't even seem so bright.

Dick shifted, sitting on his knees and tugging Jason into his lap. Another slap of gloved hand to cheek. "Jay, come on, man," he whispered, and finally, -finally-, Jason's eyes seemed to part under the characteristic red mask. The grip on Dick's heart eased slightly, more so when Jason heaved a heavy cough.

"Fuck... what the hell happened...?" He rasped out, before tilting his head back a bit. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Dickie-bird? The fuck you doing here...?"

"I heard you on the comm, fucker. I dunno what happened, but- fuck, you're a mess, you need to get to a hospital." Dick now allowed himself to look Jason over, and hated not knowing if the darkened patches covering his clothes were from the rain or blood. Considering the darker taint to the puddle forming under Jason's body, he decided he didn't want to necessarily know.

"Got no-" Another fit of coughing, and it was like Jason was trying to cough up his whole organ system. "Health insurance. Not all of us are rich little golden boys."

"Jason, stop, okay? For once in your fucking life, just-"

"Gosh, Dickie, you worried about me? S'those tears or rain?" His voice, weak, was edged with teasing humor, and Dick would've punched him if he wasn't so panicked.

"Shut up, asshole. You- you-"

"I'm -dying-, bitch. Got any eloquent words for that? I don't." Jason shifted a little - might've been a shrug, if he had better control of his body. "I'm used to it though. Loses the terror when you've died before."

"Don't -say- that! You're not dying, Jay! I'm gonna-" Dick's hands hovered, hesitating, before touching the comm. "Alfie, hey, please, we need to be picked up. Got my GPS? Great. Follow it. Jason got- Jason needs help. Now. Soon."

Jason was laughing softly, the sound choked with his body's feeble attempts at coughs. Blood was being coughed onto his lips, only to be washed free with the rain. Dick nodded at Alfred's confirmation, and let go of the comm again, curling his arms loosely around Jason's shoulders, as if they had been lovers rather than daddy's little soldiers.

"Stop laughing, you asshole. It's not funny." Dick demanded, voice choked again, and the rain had smothered the smoke - there was no further excuses for what was happening. "You're gonna be okay, you know?"

"If you say so, Dickie," Jason sighed, and he sounded resigned. Jason Todd wasn't allowed to sound resigned, dammit. "Y'know, s'funny. Feels like this should be a scene in one of those romantic noir flicks you like. Not-" Another cough, his body seizing up briefly. "Not like the deathbed of some pisspoor vigilante and his goody two shoes brother."

"Jason-"

"You know, I kinda feel like I'm going home. That's good, ain't it? Isn't there a song like that?"

"Jason, I-"

"Think I'm gonna get some shut eye, Dickie bird. Try not to wake me up, kay?"

"Don't you dare go to sleep, Jason! Stay awake, you asshole!" Dick's fingers clenched in the jacket, and he shook him slightly. "Jason!" The younger man's head lolled slightly to the side. "Goddammit, Jay, you can't die, okay? I have a lot of shit to tell you and I don't feel like saying it to some shitty gravestone." He curled his body over Jason's, cradling him, protecting him from the rain.

Perhaps a sob or two escaped him. He didn't even realize how much time passed before he heard a car pull up beside them. "Master Richard?"

* * *

><p>Written for a word war with my friend. It's not much, but with me taking part in NaNoWriMo this month, you guys aren't going to get much out of me for a while. I might continue this with a second part, but might (read: probably) will not. At any rate, I hope you enjoy!)<p> 


End file.
